


Concern and Resolution

by dwarrowdams



Series: Rogues Do It From Behind [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (kind of), Depression, I kinda dig it, M/M, also the title of this piece sounds like a Jane Austen novel, argument, why do I suck at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowdams/pseuds/dwarrowdams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Deep Roads are a dangerous place for anyone—but especially for those who aren't Grey Wardens, which is exactly why Gilan wants to leave Zevran behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Concern

**Author's Note:**

> This has been marinating in my long document of Gil/Zev stuff for...a while. I'm not sure why posting this piece makes me so nervous (more nervous than I normally am, that is), but apparently it does. Anyways, this was originally supposed to be angsty, but just wound up being sad. Hopefully that's for the best. I do hope that you enjoy it, though!

Gilan was glad he’d convinced Tirzah to stay in Tapester’s instead of camping outside the gates of Orzammar.  Although the tavern keep had been unnecessarily rude to Tirzah—a behavior that had been partially remedied by several scathing looks from Alistair and himself—the coin that their company had paid her seemed to ease any worries that she might’ve had about allowing Tirzah to stay in her tavern.  Being able to sleep in a bed for at least one more night set Gilan’s mind at ease; sharing the aforementioned bed with Zevran made the unpleasantness that tomorrow promised seem much less significant.

 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing contentedly as he leaned back against the bedpost.  “At least we can get some decent sleep before spending Maker knows how long in caves with darkspawn,” he said.

 

“We are leaving for the Deep Roads tomorrow, then?” Zevran asked as he sat down beside Gilan.

 

“Well,” Gilan began, “I’m going, and so are Tirzah, Alistair, and Wynne, but you’re not.”

 

“What?” Zevran said, frowning.  “Why not?”

 

“We figured it’s best to have a smaller group to avoid attracting the darkspawn,” Gilan said, hoping that Zevran wouldn’t press him further.  “It would’ve been just me, Alistair, and Tirzah, but Alistair figured it’d be better for us to have a healer around with how often Tirzah and I get banged up.”

 

“I would be quite concerned if you did not bring her,” Zevran said.  “Still, I think I could make myself useful if you were willing to accommodate just one more.”

 

Gilan inhaled.  “I don’t know, Zev,” he said.  “Tirzah was pretty firm on it only being the four of us.”

 

“Surely there is something that you could say to convince her to allow me to come as well.”

 

Gilan shifted uncomfortably.  “Actually, I’m the one who first suggested leaving you behind,” he confessed.  “I wish you could come, believe me, but with all the darkspawn and the taint…”

 

“So you have decided to start worrying about that now?”

 

Gilan looked away, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.  “There’s a lot of darkspawn down there, Zev.  I know we’ve been fighting them for months, but that’s out on the surface in smaller groups, not in tunnels that are literally crawling with them. I’d be surprised if you came with us and managed to escape without getting tainted.”

 

“And you are not concerned about Wynne?”

 

“After discussing it, not really,” Gilan said.  “Alistair and I both figured that the spirit would protect her from getting tainted.  Besides, she’s a mage—she’s less likely to get covered in darkspawn blood than you are.”

 

Zevran sighed.  “You have thought this through, I see,” he said.  “Clearly, you do not wish for me to come with you.”

 

Gilan bit his lip—he knew that Zevran wanted to guilt him into changing his mind, but he was determined not to fall for it.  “It’s not that I don’t want you to come, Zev,” he said.  “I just don’t want you to get tainted.”

 

“I know that,” Zevran said.  “You are a Grey Warden and you are sworn to protect others from the darkspawn.  But you are not the only one who has sworn to do something.”

 

Gilan frowned slightly, about to inquire further, but Zevran spoke before he could.  “When I joined you all those months ago, I swore that I would aid with your endeavors,” he said.  “I cannot do that if you leave me behind.”

 

Gilan exhaled, tearing a hand through his hair.  He almost wanted to give in if only to avoid further discussion of the matter, but the image of Zevran tainted, his skin pallid, his eyes empty, was enough to convince Gilan to hold firm.

 

“I know,” Gilan said, taking the elf’s hands in his, “and you’ve been true to that.  You’ve already done so much to help stop the Blight—you deserve a break.”

 

Zevran laughed harshly.  “And I will spend every moment of it worrying about you,” he said.  “Believe me, my dear, it will not be much of a break.”

 

“At least you’ll be worrying in safety rather than in mortal peril.”

 

“That is not much comfort, my dear.”

 

Gilan looked down at him, trying to steel himself against the sorrow in Zevran’s amber eyes.  “I know,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the elf on the forehead.  “Zevran, I’m doing this because I…I care about you and I don’t want to see you come to harm.”

 

“I have managed to come this far without anything terrible happening,” Zevran replied as he tilted the human’s head up, forcing Gilan to look him in the eye.  “I think we will manage.”

 

“We might,” Gilan said, “but that’s not a risk I want to take.  We’ve been tempting fate this whole time—I worry about what could happen if we take a chance this big.”

 

“You are not the only one who is worried,” Zevran said as he wrapped his arms about the human’s waist.  “I know that you are a Grey Warden, but there are still so many ways that you could come to harm.  If I am not there…”

 

“Then I’ll take care of myself,” Gilan replied, his voice soft.  “I’ll be fine, Zev.”

 

Zevran sighed.  “I will still worry,” he said as he traced Gilan’s jawline with his thumb, his lips a hair’s breadth from the human’s neck.

 

Gilan closed his eyes and tried to steady himself—with Zevran so close, it was difficult to resist him.  “I know, Zev, but try not to,” he replied, resting his forehead against Zevran’s, hoping that he had nearly convinced the elf.  He’d thought that he could do this—he’d even practiced with Tirzah a couple of times yesterday—but he felt himself losing his train of thought every time he looked into Zevran’s eyes.

 

He sighed softly as Zevran’s fingers traced over his lips and down his neck.  “Zev,” he murmured, “please.  Stay here.”

 

“I would,” Zevran began, “but I have seen how you fight.  You are always more concerned with protecting others than protecting yourself.  That is why I want to come: to make sure that you return safely.”

 

Gilan took a step away from Zevran, dropping his gaze to the floor.  Zevran was right, of course—given the choice between saving his own life and saving anyone else’s, he’d choose the life of the other person without a moment of hesitation. Leaving his parents back in Castle Cousland more than half a year ago still haunted his nightmares on a regular basis.

 

He took a deep breath, slowly bringing his head back up to meet Zevran’s gaze.  “That’s because I’d rather die than live with the knowledge that I failed to protect someone I care about again.  Believe me, once was more than enough.”

 

“And you have never thought that there may be people who care for you in the same way?”

 

Gilan sighed.  He knew that Zevran was right—he’d formed close bonds with all of his companions over the past several months, but he still couldn’t help but think that in the scheme of things, his absence wouldn’t matter much.

 

“Yeah, I have,” he muttered.  “I just can’t help but think that their lives mean more than mine.”

 

“Oh, my sweet,” Zevran said, leaning in to kiss Gilan’s neck, “that is not true.”

 

“I wish I could say I believed you,” Gilan replied, as he pulled Zevran into his arms.  “But honestly, I’m not that important.”

 

“Gilan…”

 

“Really, Zev—I’m not.  Tirzah and Alistair could get on without me and I don’t have any family who would miss me if I did die.”

 

“That does not mean that you are not important,” Zevran murmured.  “There are…many people who care for you.”

 

“I know,” Gilan said.  “And I know it probably doesn’t make much sense for me to talk about how I’d rather die than see someone else hurt, but it’s so much easier to feel pain for a little while than having to carry the loss of that person with you for the rest of your life.”

 

He paused, tilting Zevran’s head up so that their eyes met as he wrapped his arms around the elf’s waist, pulling him closer.  “Listen,” he said, “I know you’re the one who took the oath to protect me, but honestly Zev, I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.  If something happened to you and it was even remotely my fault, there’s no way I could live with myself.”

 

Zevran gazed up at him, his amber eyes wide, his lips parted slightly.

 

“Sorry, I’ve said too much,” Gilan muttered as he released Zevran, moving towards the door.  “I think I need some time alone.”

 

Before Zevran could answer, he was out the door and heading towards the exit, hoping that Orzammar’s streets would provide him with some peace of mind.  At the very least, they’d keep him from completely spoiling his relationship with Zevran—if it wasn’t too late for that.


	2. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an emotionally fraught discussion with Zevran, Gilan attempts to smooth things over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've posted this much sooner, but the past few weeks have been quite hellish in terms of mental health. Thank you to those of you who read the previous installment—I appreciate that more than you'll ever know. I do hope that you enjoy this next bit and this provides a more satisfying ending to the previous piece.

The common room of Tapester’s was all but empty when Gilan returned—save for one lone dwarf singing drunkenly in the corner.  Thankfully, he seemed oblivious to Gilan’s presence; he continued to sing as the human crept across the room and up towards the staircase.

 

Gilan took the stairs much more slowly than he normally would, using the extra time to worry about what Zevran might have to say about their conversation earlier that evening.  He had been far from subtle and could only hope that his obvious feelings for Zevran did not put a strain on their relationship.

 

He paused outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath before he pushed it open.

 

“Zev?” Gilan called softly as he slipped back into the room.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You didn’t have to wait up, you know,” Gilan said as he shut the door behind him, crossing the room to sit down on the bed.

 

“I know,” Zevran replied.  “But if you are leaving me tomorrow, I did not want to risk missing my last few moments with you.”

 

Gilan breathed a sigh of relief.  “So you’re all right with it?”

 

“No, but I know how impossible it is to change your mind,” Zevran said as he sat up, draping his arms over Gilan’s shoulders.  “Besides, if you are so worried about me, perhaps it is for the best.”

 

Gilan chuckled as he turned around to face Zevran.  “Oh, I’ll still worry about you,” he teased.  “Just not nearly as much as I would if you were coming along with us.”

 

“I doubt that I will be in much danger here, my dear,” Zevran said, wrapping his arms around Gilan’s waist.

 

“I know.  But I still worry.  You never know what could go wrong, after all.”

 

“Do not worry about me,” Zevran murmured.  “Worry about yourself.”

 

“Come on, Zev, you know I can’t do that,” Gilan teased, leaning down to kiss the elf’s cheek.

 

“Could you worry about me worrying about you?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Try your best, then,” Zevran said, leaning down to kiss Gilan’s neck.  “And remember that I will be here worrying about you as well.”

 

Gilan smiled, pulling Zevran closer.  “I’ll try,” he said.  “But Maker, I’m going to miss you.”

 

He wanted to tell Zevran how much he loved him, but he couldn’t make himself speak—especially since he’d already said too much earlier tonight.  If Zevran didn’t feel the same way, it would ruin tonight—and would make the trek through the Deep Roads even more miserable.

 

“It will be…strange without you here,” Zevran murmured.  “But we do not need to say goodbye just yet.” He slid on top of Gilan, his knees on either side of the human’s hips.  “There is still some time for me to bid you a proper farewell, yes?”

 

Gilan smiled, reaching up to tuck Zevran’s hair behind his ear.  “Yeah,” he said, “I think we can manage that.”

 

“Good,” Zevran whispered, pulling off his shirt.  “I would be terribly broken up if I could not at least say goodbye.”

 

“Mmm,” Gilan hummed.  “Spending the next couple of weeks in caves with darkspawn does deserve some type of send-off.”

 

“It certainly does,” Zevran said, sliding further up onto Gilan’s hips.  “And when you return, we will celebrate even more.”

 

Gilan moaned softly as he cupped Zevran’s ass.  “That’s the kind of thing that’ll insure I come back alive.”

 

“Perfect,” Zevran murmured as he leaned down to kiss Gilan’s neck.

 

Gilan felt relief wash through him as he pulled Zevran closer.  He’d have to tell the elf how he felt eventually, but that was a problem for a different day.  For now, he could forget about everything but the handsome elf in his arms.


End file.
